


Hawke Gets a Cold

by ninzz



Series: Dragon Age Ficlets [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Common Cold, Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:54:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninzz/pseuds/ninzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:  'Hawke has caught a cold and Anders tries to get him better'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawke Gets a Cold

"Hawke, for the love of Andraste, stop wiping your hands on your clothes."

Hawke whines in response, unable to do anything else. He rubs his already raw nose with his sleeve in a futile attempt to remove the offending blockage, but Anders snatches Hawke's hand away quickly.

"It's all in your beard. Stop smearing snot everywhere, you idiot."

Hawke's answering moan is a clipped sound that gets stuck in the back of his throat. "Feel like shit," he says, eyes hooded and glassy. 

"You look like it, too." Anders turns to Leandra. “Could you get me a damp cloth, please? Any kind of material will do.” She nods and disappears into the adjacent room. 

Anders rummages around in his bag while he waits, and finally finds a bottle marked 'decongestant'. He holds it up for Hawke to see the viscous, deep brown liquid inside. 

"I would say 'I hope you don't mind the flavour of anise', but I don't think that's a concern. Anyway, this - however disgusting it may look - will unblock your nose and calm the burning in your throat. And this," he says, procuring a handkerchief, "you will need. Unless you want to never worry about starching your sleeves again."  
Hawke snorts out a weak laugh, which quickly turns into choking. Anders stays in his seat, patiently waiting for the coughing to stop. 

As the guest in the house, Leandra offered Anders the most comfortable chair they had, which turned out to be an old yet solidly built one, made of pine, with smooth indents designed to fit the body's contours better. There was a knitted throw folded up on it, serving as a cushion, that was quite obviously handmade. Anders pulls the throw out from under himself, unfolding it, and lays it over his friend. Hawke sniffs pitifully, and his eyes roll back in his head.  
Leandra comes back then, with the cloth Anders had requested. He takes it, thanking her, and dabs Hawke's sweat-slick brow with it. His skin is flushed and horribly hot to touch. It looks like a fever is starting, which is just as well. Better for it to happen sooner than later.

“Make sure he stays warm, even if he asks for the blankets off. The heat will help the fever break sooner,” Anders instructs Leandra. 

“Thank you so much, messere.” She reaches into her apron and withdraws a small drawstring bag, obviously intending to pay. Anders catches her hand, shaking his head gently. 

“You don't need to pay me. I don't do this for money. And Garrett is my friend.”

Leandra isn't sure what to say, and Anders is perfectly content with that as a cue to take his leave.

“D'know what I'd do without you, Anders,” Hawke mumbles from under his covers.

Anders offers an easy smile as he opens the door.

“Die, probably.”


End file.
